‘Is this how you seduce all women?’ It was supposed to be a joke, but he instantly stiffens and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
‘I’m not the seductive type, Sash.’ He stops moving. ‘Sorry, this wasn’t meant to come across as … I mean, I wasn’t trying to … We should eat.’ His arms drop from around me and he hurries over to stoke the fire and then goes to the sleigh and gets out a Tupperware container of warming chickpea curry my dad made this morning and a small pan, and some veggies to roast.
‘I’m going to check on the reindeer.’ I walk over to where the two lads are tethered, still munching their way through their piles of lichen. I stroke their sides and rub their noses when they sniff over my clothes to see if I’m hiding any more lichen about my person, but it’s so impossible to take my eyes off Tav that it’s a good thing they’ve both dropped their antlers by now or I would definitely have been impaled because I’m not paying attention.
I wait until he beckons me over and then go and sit on the log beside the fire and warm my hands over the flames. He’s got a camping kettle in the fire, boiling water for cups of tea, and we take a fork each and share the curry straight from the pan.
The lights haven’t faded yet, and I nearly miss my mouth with the fork a few times because I keep looking up at them.
‘Trying to make the most of them before you go?’
The curry turns to concrete in my mouth and I make a noncommittal noise.
Neither of us speaks for a few moments.
‘I don’t do relationships, Sash. I’ve never wanted my life intertwined with anyone else’s.’ He’s quiet for a minute and then he takes a deep breath. ‘I was in a relationship when I had the accident. We’d been together for nearly two years. I thought we had a future together … But she’d left by the time I came out of the coma. Apparently she visited once, and then told my father to tell me – if I woke up – that she was sorry, but she had enough to deal with without having to cope with a crippled boyfriend too.’
I shift minutely closer on the log. That one little thing explains so much. No wonder he has a hard time opening up and refuses to let anyone do anything for him. He doesn’t want to be an imposition on anyone else’s life because someone left when it looked like he might be. ‘That’s horrific, Tav, but she was just one person. The wrong person for you, clearly. Anyone else would’ve stuck around and helped you through what must’ve been the hardest time of your life.’
‘It’s not about that. I never blamed her for leaving. We were young and my injuries looked lifelong at that point. She hadn’t signed up for that. Even if she had stayed, I was in a bad place and would’ve chased her off anyway. I couldn’t deal with anyone but myself and anything other than my own recovery. But it made me realise that I had to be independent. I had to be alone. I don’t want to share my life with anyone. I rely on myself and expect nothing from anyone. To change now, after so many years, I’d need to be metaphorically knocked off my feet. Floored by something that can’t be ignored. And I’ve never felt that.’
Why do I feel a sudden sting of disappointment? There can never be anything between me and Tav. I know that – we live in different worlds. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling something for him, and I thought he might be feeling something for me too. No one could blame him for closing off after that, but I thought he was starting to open up to me and that it might extend to all senses of the word, but he clearly isn’t. ‘Have you ever looked for love? Been on dates?’
‘A couple of dates, here and there. Never more than that. I’ve never felt any chemistry or spark that would make it worth upturning my life for. It’s taken me a long while to see myself as anything other than damaged and that doesn’t make it easy to go on dates.’
That makes my breath catch for an altogether different reason, and something more magnetic than the lights above flickers between us.
He looks away sharply. ‘How about you?’
‘Nah. It goes back to that not feeling important thing. I dated a guy for a few years in my twenties, but towards the end, it was a completely loveless routine. I spent most of the time feeling like an inconvenient afterthought to him, so I broke it off, and since then … Online dating with guys who are only after one thing, and a couple of dates where they only wanted to talk about themselves or barely put their phone down for long enough to order their food. And on one occasion, my food as well.’
Tav laughs. ‘Oh no.’
‘He insisted he was being chivalrous, even when I told him in no uncertain terms what I thought of that, so I tried to teach him a lesson by pretending to be allergic to peppers, faked an allergy attack to make him think twice about his actions, and left. I may have also stabbed myself with a biro and pretended it was an epi-pen.’
‘Oh my God, you’re amazing. I want to date you just for that. And I will never, ever order food for you.’ He gives me a mock look of fright, making me giggle.
It’s the most I’ve laughed about my love life in recent years.
‘I’ve always thought that happily ever after begins with “happily” – you’ve got to be in the right place to find it. People use relationships as a bandage for an unhappy life and think love will fix anything, but I think you need to be happy yourself before you can share that with someone else.’
Something is making my eyes water, and I’m not sure if it’s the cold air or him and his beautiful sentiments, but he’s got a point. I’ve never really been happy with my life, and no relationship has ever worked out. Maybe the two things are connected. I’ve always gone into them half-heartedly, expecting disappointment, and on that front, I’ve never been disappointed.
***
‘Will Mr Bean and Pedro Pascal be okay?’ I ask as we get ready to go to bed. It’s only 8 p.m. but trying to stay warm in this temperature takes its toll and neither of us can stop yawning.
He laughs at my worrying. ‘Their fur is hollow so they’ve got built-in insulation. They survived the Ice Age, Sash, I think they can make it one night with us.’
‘What about wolves?’
‘Fire’s burning, we’re right here, and there are two of them. I’ll put bells on the harnesses so we’ll hear them ring if they get worried and move around. Reindeer can sense when a predator is nearby.’
I feel bad for leaving them out in the cold when the tent is warm and snug, glowing with the light from the fire while the smoke rises in a perfect line, up and out of the chimney at the top.
‘Do you want … I mean, we don’t actually have to huddle for warmth, we won’t freeze to death if we sleep on opposite sides.’
‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. We might not freeze to death, but I don’t want to risk it, do you?’
He laughs loudly. ‘I can honestly say I do not.’
It’s warm enough inside that we’re able to take our coats and gloves off and get in our sleeping bags. Tav gets into his with ease, lies down on the blankets, and is enough of a gentleman to bite back his giggles as I try to get into mine with all the grace of a flamingo being thrown out of the pub at closing time, and tuck my water bottle down the front in an attempt to stop it turning to ice.
Once I’ve stopped wriggling around, he drags an open sleeping bag across to cover both of us, but instead of pulling back, his arm stays draped across me, and I can almost forget we’re in a tent in the Norwegian wilderness, that there could be literally anything lurking out there, and it’s minus-twenty degrees.
But it’s also awkward. He’s taut and unrelaxed and probably as hyper-aware of touching me as I am of touching him.
‘This is … not how I expected to be spending tonight.’
Addressing the awkwardness head-on makes him laugh and instantly eases the tension. He shifts until he can slide his right arm under me, and I settle my head on it like a pillow.
His arm is outstretched in front of me, his palm open and his fingers limp. The movement has rucked up the sleeve of his thermal top and the flickering of the fire p
icks out the deep white line of a scar on his palm that runs under the base of his thumb and down the side of his wrist. This time, I can’t stop myself touching it. I pull the sleeping bag up so it keeps his arm warm, and then I unzip my bag until I can snake a hand out and let my fingers touch his inner forearm and graze gently up to the palm of his hand and down again, over and over.
He shivers and I don’t think it has much to do with the temperature. After a few long minutes, my stroking has the desired effect because I feel him start to relax. His arm over the top of me gets heavier, and he exhales and snuggles closer. He uses his chin to push back the sleeping bag until his lips find my shoulder and press a kiss there.
‘Thank you.’ He says it so quietly that I feel the reverberation of the words through my top rather than hear them.
‘What for?’ I whisper into the darkness without letting my fingers stop as they trail across his inner wrist.
‘Your enthusiasm. Your creativity. Your dedication to the Santa letters and everything you’re doing.’ His lips touch my shoulder again, higher up this time, closer to the bare skin at the nape of my neck. ‘You’re right: I am burnt out. I’m burnt out and I’m lonely, and I didn’t realise either of those things until you forced me to.’
His voice is a low rumble that travels all the way down my spine and I let my fingers rub over the scar on his hand, my nails catching on his skin and dragging gently.
‘I don’t want to do this on my own anymore.’ His voice is so quiet and muffled through the layers of sleeping bag that even the slightest movement would drown him out. ‘You’ve invigorated me. Having someone to share this with. You’ve made me realise what’s been wrong lately …’ He sounds like he’s only realising it for himself as he says the words, which isn’t like Tav who carefully considers everything before opening his mouth. ‘All year, I’ve been fighting against your dad. Having to adjust to him being in charge has been tough, and I haven’t appreciated how much easier it’s been to have someone to talk things over with. And you. You’ve changed everything.’ His arm over the top of me squeezes. ‘I’ve lost my motivation lately. I hadn’t realised how demoralised I was getting from being alone. You’ve given me my joy back. Made me feel young again. Made Christmas fun again. Made life fun again too.’
I unzip my bag so I can get my other hand out and wrap both of mine around both of his, my fingers sliding in between his and curling over the backs of his hands.
‘You’re the first person who’s seen me in a really long time.’ His fingers tighten and cover mine completely. ‘I can feel myself melting, Sash. I’m different than I was a couple of weeks ago. Anything feels do-able because you’re here.’
I lift both his hands to my mouth and breathe into them until I can press a kiss to his knuckles.
‘I don’t want to go,’ I whisper into his hands, holding his arms around me. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud and there’s a freedom in admitting it to myself as well as to him.
‘I don’t want you to go.’
Tears. Instantaneous tears. No one has ever said that to me before. No one has ever cared whether I’m there or not, and I didn’t realise how much I wanted someone to want me until he did.
I turn onto my back and he pulls his arm up far enough to lean on an elbow and look down at me. He wipes the tears away from under my eyes and his lips press against my cheek.
‘What I said earlier about relationships … I was trying to convince myself it hadn’t happened, but it’s too late. I’ve been metaphorically, physically, and literally knocked off my feet by you. You got under my skin from that very first night when you ordered me into the house. To me, this is something that can’t be ignored and I really hope you feel the sam—’
I surge up and smash my lips against his.
His skin is cold but it heats up under the frenzied kissing as our lips move against each other’s and his nose rubs against mine. His stubble scrapes across my jaw, creating a delicious tingle, and the arm across me slides under my ribs, his huge hand opening and pulling me closer to him, and I feel encased by his body, and at the same time, I can’t get enough of him. My hands are everywhere. One clutches into his top while the other slides into his hair, knocking his knitted hat up and curling through the brown strands to hold him in place. It’s a desperate, grasping kiss that sends lust jangling through my entire body, and if we weren’t both entombed in separate sleeping bags, I’d have wrapped my legs around him just to get closer.
Every point of touch is such a hot and burning mark that I’m sure there must be steam rising from every spot where his body touches mine, until our foreheads are pressing together and we’re both gasping for breath.
‘Oh my God, Tav,’ I wheeze.
‘You feel the same then?’
I laugh and I pull his head down until I can kiss him again.
This might be the best night of my life.
***
We’re off bright and early the next morning. Well, dark and early, seeing as the sun won’t rise for a good few hours yet. The moon is still up as we set off across the frozen lake – the first time we haven’t had a path to follow and have to forge our own way through the snow.
Tav leads Mr Bean on foot for a while before he gets into his sleigh and we ride across the white tundra, fast when the reindeer are allowed to set the pace, and it’s another couple of hours until the sun is bobbing at the edge of the horizon, covering the world in a strange twilight-esque light.
We’ve come even further north than I’m used to, and there’s a blisteringly cold chill in the Arctic air, and miles and miles of untouched snow stretches in front of us, undisturbed by even so much as an animal’s footprint.
‘We’re not far now,’ Tav calls to me. ‘Keep your eyes out. An injured reindeer could’ve moved to anywhere nearby; there’s no saying she’s going to be in the exact spot she was last seen.’
It isn’t long before Tav gets out again and walks beside Mr Bean, double-checking a paper map against my dad’s handwritten instructions, his compass, and the intermittent GPS on his phone. Eventually he halts the reindeer and looks around, a bewildered look on his face. ‘Well, we’re at the exact coordinates.’
The snow is almost knee-high as I climb out of the sleigh and battle my way over to him.
‘There’s nowhere for a reindeer to hide in this; it’s barren.’ He checks the map again and gets a foldable walking pole out of his sleigh and wades off through the snow. ‘I’m going to walk around and have a look.’
I stay with our reindeer to make sure they don’t wander off without any trees to tether them to, and they scrape at the snow, foraging for lichen with their hooves and noses.
The sun has stayed below the horizon giving us pseudo-daylight, a weird mauvy light cast over the area, but it’s easy not to lose sight of Tav because there’s nowhere to go. I keep my eyes on him until he’s a speck in the distance and then watch as he turns and goes the other way, looking for the injured reindeer.
‘No sign,’ he says as he arrives back from the opposite direction, having done a full circle of the area.
‘Could she not have been as badly injured as they thought and walked off?’
‘There aren’t any tracks. It didn’t snow last night, so hoofprints would still be visible.’
‘Should we ask someone?’ Even as I say it, I know what a stupid question it is. There isn’t a soul around. The last other person I saw was Dad as he waved us off. ‘Who told you about her?’
‘No one, your dad took the message …’
We meet each other’s eyes.
‘And he was very keen for me to go with you,’ I say slowly. ‘It was like he’d planned it …’
‘And for a reindeer to have been hit by a train, there’d have to be some form of … y’know, train track somewhere nearby, and there isn’t. There are no roads and no trains anywhere in this region. I should have made that connection earlier …’
‘Surely he wouldn’t have sent us out h
ere on a wild goose chase?’
‘A night alone, the Northern Lights, sleeping under the stars …’
‘Yeah, but it’s also freezing and could be dangerous. My dad wouldn’t be that sneaky and underhanded … Would he?’
Tav looks doubtful.
‘I’m going to see what he’s got to say for himself. Maybe we’re in the wrong place.’ I get my phone out and ring the number of the main desk, surprised when Freya answers.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask quickly.
‘Oh yes, fine, Sasha. I stopped by on my day off to see if Percy needed any help. He’s in his grotto with Anja and Nils dressed up as elves. Lots of unexpected visitors for a Sunday morning.’
‘That’s good. About this reindeer …’
‘Ah, yes. Percy said that if you phoned, I was to pass on the message that the man who found it rang again and said it had gone. Sorry, you’ve headed all that way for nothing.’
She doesn’t sound in the least bit sorry, and I double-check everything’s okay again before I hang up and pass on the message to Tav.
‘Hmm.’ He strokes his chin.
‘Hmm,’ I agree.
‘I think we might’ve been set up, Miss Hansley.’
There’s something about his Norwegian accent saying my name like that and it makes me go tingly all over. I should probably be annoyed at my father for what I’m ninety-nine per cent sure was some sort of scheme, but after last night … Worse things have happened than being sent out into the Arctic wilds with Tav.
‘He’s such a character.’ Tav doesn’t sound annoyed either. ‘I used to look forward to him coming every year because he felt like a friend from the first time I met him. He’s got such a vivacious and dynamic personality. You can’t help but be cheered by his presence. No wonder he’s the best Santa we’ve ever had.’
‘He’s so settled here. I’ve been here for three weeks and he’s not once mentioned going anywhere or dashing off on his next hare-brained adventure.’
The Post Box at the North Pole: The perfect cosy and uplifting Christmas romance to curl up with in 2021! Page 25